Soldiers Stories: New Gettysburg
by MagnusScriptor
Summary: We have all seen battles from the perspectives of commanders, people who can't get their hands dirty. But there are things that even the commanders did not, could not see. And sometimes the most easilymissed things of all will change the fate of the world
1. Coproral James Lanndon

_Receiving incoming transmission . . ._

**Magnus Scriptor:** Good day to you all, and welcome to my first fanfiction published here. I'm working on quite a few writing projects right now, so I am afraid I won't be able to update this as often as I would care to. Please review if you liked it, or if you didn't; I'd just be glad to hear what people have to say. Oh, and a final note before you begin, I do appreciate the similarities between this concept and that of Ryodin's Starcraft story. I do assure that this is a coincidence, although I am a huge fan of his. Anyhow, my approach _is_ different from his, as you will see below.

I have completed over 125 pages of a single Starcraft fanfictions in the past few years; but it's all in a fairly raw form. However, I will post it if anyone requests it. Some of it really isn't suitable for this site yet, but some might be worth your time. Any comments, etc. are welcome. MS, out.

_Transmission terminated_

New Gettysburg. The region had seen its fair share of conflict, as it was situated on one of the main trade lines between Tarsonis and the rich mineral deposits of Moria. Pirates, smugglers, and rebels had all come through at one point, whether for a quick drink and a visit to the brothels or for a more deadly purpose, each renegade group had made its presence felt throughout the decades. The Confederate military had thought to deal with such hostile incursions by dispatching a Marine regiment, complete with armor and air support, to the city. Of course, this only served to irritate the majority of the locals. Only the bartenders and whores seemed happier, the soldiers had their own needs, and were paid well enough to afford a night out every so often. But the rest began to feel resentful; taxes soared as a complex to house the regiment began to be built, and few citizens did not resent the swaggering bravado with which the officers acted. Equality through money had always be the rule in New Gettysburg, but the Confederate officers seemed to think they were a whole new social class. Of course, all that had changed when the Conflict began. That was all anyone called it, there was no need for qualifiers. Once reports began filtering out of what had really happened to Chau Saran city of Los Andares, the citizens began taking a greater appreciation of their guardians. Of course the Marines assumed that the battle would be fought far from there, in the darkness of space or on far-off worlds, but the fighting rapidly began to enroach on the trade lines, and soon interworld communication had been severely damaged. With that damage came a severe decline in trade, and soon the city began to decline. As the fortunes of the inept Confederate military worsened under the assaults of the Sons of Korhal, now under the tactical leadership of former-Confederate general Edmund Duke, and the insectoid Zerg monstrosities, people began to emigrate. In a few months, the entire settlement might have been deserted, but events came to a head before that. After the Sons of Korhal broke through Tarsonis' orbital defenses, and brought the Zerg with them, a Protoss expeditionary fleet suddenly appeared several light years away. The Protoss quickly landed on New Gettysburg, and razed several sections of the space station, to clear room for their bases. The Sons of Korhal, fearing that their Zerg pets would be eliminated before they could level Tarsonis, sent in a force under the command of Sarah Kerrigan, a former Confederate Ghost. Their fleet engaged the Protoss in high-orbit as their ground forces clashed with both the Protoss and the Zerg. The Protoss who had landed were outnumbered by both the Terrans and the Zerg, and after a long struggle, they fell to the Sons of Korhal. 

Victorious, the Sons of Korhal returned to their base and sent a transmission for evac to Mengsk. Kerrigan sent the comm. staff away and awaited the reply alone. But it was not what she had expected. 

"Sir, how long has she been in there?" asked Corporal James Lanndon, unconsciously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Those Zerg are making me damn nervous."  
"You and me both, Corporal," replied Sergeant Al Talran. "Don't worry, we'll be back in space before you know it." 

The two Marines had been assigned to Command Center security, as the location of the base near the Zerg outposts had necessitated a Red Status alert level. It was unusual to see the soldiers in their CMC-300 Powered Armor walking through the Command Center hallways, but no one doubted the effectiveness of their weaponry and defenses. Kerrigan chose that moment to leave the room. Her red hair fell over her face for a moment, obscuring her green eyes. With a slight sniffle, she pushed her hair back, and Talran saw her shake for a moment. Ghosts were normally unsuited for command, as their emotional-blockers proved to be a severe impediment, but SoK technicians had reprogrammed Kerrigan's chips to allow her to feel a broader range of emotions, so as to better suit her to her position. Still, it unsettled both the Marines to see their invincible commander crying. 

"Boys, prepare the perimeter defenses, I need every man we have armed and ready to fight. Zerg are going to be all over us in a bit; I want to give them a warm welcome." Kerrigan gave them a wan smile, and turned to leave them.  
"Ma'am, when's evac?"  
Kerrigan half turned, a strange look in her eyes as she gazed into the sergeant's own brown orbs.  
"We're not going anywhere, sergeant. The fleet's moving out. Without us."  
"But they can't-" began Lanndon. Talran cut him off with a look.  
"So be it," he said. "Then we'll do what we do best."  
"Sergeant, report to my personal bodyguard. Corporal, my best wishes. Now get out there and rev up our defenses. I want every Bunker overflowing, every Goliath surrounded by ammunition crates, every Arclite in position. You got me?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" barked Lanndon, and began to run. He hit a button on his suit, lowering his visor. The dimly lit corridors of the Command Center were shrouded in a green glow, and menus and symbols began to appear over it all. "Open comm. link," he muttered. "Full range, emergency channel." The suit beeped obligingly. "All units, evac's a no-go; man defensive positions ASAP. Zerg are going to drop a shit-load of warriors on our backs, and we'd better be prepared to shake them off. Authorization code 98105. Move it people!" Lanndon quickly muttered: "Close comm. link" His suit beeped once more, and he rounded a final corner in the Command Center. A door lay in front of him, and he slammed his armored fist down on the access button. The door quickly opened, and vertigo siezed Lanndon for a moment. In the past few days, he had been stationed in the Command Center, enough time for him to forget the vastness of space, space that he was now staring down into. The Command Center had been built close to the edge of the space platform, and Tarsonis slowly spun before his eyes. Shaking his head, Lannndon quickly strode around the Command Center to where an M352 APC was leaving to reinforce the Bunkers. Ducking under the top of the hatchway, Lanndon quickly seated himself inside the Armored Personnel Carrier, and enabled his magnetic restraints. Five more Marines filed into the APC, bringing it up to its full complement of twelve. Engines roared green fire, fed by the volatile Vespene Gas, and propelled the hovering APC off into the distance.

The Sons of Korhal had made their base in the middle of a city, below a steep hill where the furthest Zerg outpost was located. Bunker complexes filled up entire street's widths, and security was at a high. Attacks had happened before, but were always repelled with ease. Even the mammoth Ultralisks had falled to the relentless fire of snipers hidden in the ruined city buildings. Waves of Zerglings were cut down by Goliath autocannons and Marine rifles. The nightmarish Hydralisks had left their mark, however. Red Terran blood mingled with the green acid of their spines in more than one place, and few buildings did not have a Marine slumped in death against them.

As Lanndon began to feel reassured that his unit would be able to hold off enemy attack, the APC suddenly swung around and stopped. Only the magnetic constraints saved him from smashing into the Marine seated opposite him. The back hatch of the APC swung open, and the Marines leapt to their feet, grabbing ammunition for their C-14 Gauss "Impaler" rifles off of the APC's interior walls, and storming down the ramp. The twelve man squad found a surprise waiting for them, however. Instead of finding a Bunker Complex to reinforce, a charred ruin, heaped high with corpses and flowing with blood and dark ichor greeted the new arrivals. One Marine slapped a button on his suit, barely raising his visor before he dropped to his knees and vomited on the ground. Lanndon took a closer look at him, and saw that he was just a technician, his glasses would have been rendered unnecessary by the proper surgery if he had been an actual Marine.

"Corporal," said a sergeant, spying Lanndon's insignia. "My comm.'s down, check with the APC driver. We need to get this info back to base on the double. Northern defenses are breached. Judging by the path through the usual amount of rubble, we have a sizable force moving towards Central. Get on it, now!"  
"Sir, yes sir!" said Lanndon, and moved back into the APC, fast.  
"The rest of you dogs, form a perimeter around the APC; we're staying here until we get word otherwise, but that don't mean we're about to abandon our ride back if things do get hairy."  
"Sir, yes sir!"

Inside the APC, Lanndon beat his fist twice on the door leading to the cockpit. Suddenly there was a crash, as of broken glass. Screams filled the air as Lanndon unslung his rifle. The hinges on the door were not recessed, unlike most cockpit access points. Lanndon put the muzzle on the upper hinge, and began to squeeze the trigger. Then, suddenly, the screams stopped. Lanndon paused for an instant, and then threw himself forward. A long claw smashed a jagged hole through the door just where Lanndon had been standing. Another followed it, and tore the door apart in a screech of twisting metal. Lanndon raised his rifle and fired a burst of metal spikes into the creature beyond before he could even identify it, knocking it backwards into the control console. But another like creature jumped at him, and its claws bit into his rifle. Lanndon stumbled backward and dropped his hand to his pistol holster. He drew it and fired just as the second creature leaped at him. It hit him hard, the gyroscopes in his armor straining to keep the massive suit upright.

He batted the corpse away from him with a backhanded blow from his free hand, and turned to its twin. It's red blood mingled with that of the two pilots. One's chest had been ripped apart, as if something had burrowed out of it. That was in fact the truth. Lanndon had seen the effects of Broodlings many times, the parasites that grew too fast for their masteres and literally tore them apart. The copilot had been decapitated by the monsters as he tried to draw his sidearm. Lanndon stepped forward and grabbed the pilot's pistols and his spare pistol magazines, slipping the magazines into his own holster and holding the second pistol in his free hand. Then he surveyed the cockpit. The control consoles had been damaged badly when the Broodlings had shot out of the pilot's chest, and their claws had finished the job. Sparks flew from the shattered electronics, and Lanndon grimaced at the thought of being so far in front of the lines without communication. In the field, only sergeants and the ranks above them could contact home base, and his sergeant had lost comm. contact.

Then, screams sounded again, but this time from outside. A frightful crunch broke off one of them, and a sickening thud ended another. The harsh reports of Impalers began to sound, but one by one they were broken off. Then, as only a few still sounded, another sound began to fill the air. The screech of the Zerg. The thuds of Zerg hooves began to shake the ground, and the Impalers suddenly switched. No more firing bursts, now the roar of full-automatic fire began to drown out all other sounds. But the high-pitched shrieks of Zerglings only intensified. Lanndon sprinted towards the exit hatch, but too late. As he covered the short distance, the last Impaler coughed and silenced. A new sound was heard, and Lanndon cringed, and stopped in his tracks. Claws tearing through skin, the thud of severed appendages impacting the ground, the grinding of bone on bone. Enough to pause even the battle-hardened Corporal. He raised his pistols and took a deep breath. "This one's for you, Mom," he muttered, and took a running leap out of the APC, rolling as he hit the ground. He slammed his pistols outwards, and knocked down a pair of Zerglings with them. The dog-sized furies were a bundles of claws, teeth, and bony carapace, a living nightmare. Lanndon was surrounded by them, dozens. One pistol in each hand, he began to turn around, slowly. He looked each creature in the eyes, their red pupilless orbs staring back at him, and refused to quake at the sight of their slavering jaws, saliva stained with the red blood of his comrades.

They began to snarl, quietly, then louder and still more loud. Lanndon stood his ground, still with both pistols pointed outwards. The Zerglings had surrounded him in a tight circle, but none of them wanted to be the first to dare the wrath of this silent and unafraid warrior. Then Lanndon heard a rush of air, and sidestepped to his right, bringing one of his pistols around. A Zergling tumbled past him, its target missed, and he sent a round through the back of its head. The snap of the bullet seemed to galvanize the other Zerg into action, and they began to charge forwards.

Lanndon smiled. "Just like brawling at the Academy," he said, and crouched down. Just as the Zerg leaped towards him, he exploded forward, his powerful legs combining with his armor's power reserves to launch him straight into a group of airborne Zerglings, knocking them backwards. Lanndon's mind suddenly cleared, and the Zerg seemed to slow down. He thought he saw a blue glow engulfing his hands as he swung his pistols around and fired and fired, never missing, dropping a Zergling with each shot. His armor strained to keep up with the motion of his body, and his muscles tensed each time he pulled the armor along with his body as he stepped, ducked, swerved, rolled, and fired. Then a noise cut through the focus of his mind. Not a loud sound, but a very quiet one. The short clicking of a hammer on an empty chamber, and then another along with it. Lanndon rolled to the side as five more Zerglings jumped at him, and dropped one pistol, using the free hand to slam a magazine into the other. He reached for the dropped pistol, but a Zergling gouged it deeply with a claw, and he knew it was useless now.

Lanndon hit a button on his suit, and twin razor-sharp blades extended along the length of his forearms. The blades sliced through the Zerg as he flipped a switch on his pistol, and emptied the magazine full-auto into a cluster of Zerglings. Then his hands were free. Two Zerglings jumped straight at him, but he jumped higher, grabbing their necks in his hands and twisting his wrist so his blades cut straight through them. Lanndon was breathing heavily now; and suddenly seemed to get his second wind.

"Stim packs," he breathed, energy rushing through him. Suddenly he crouched down and under the four Zerglings that jumped towards him again, and cut them down with five quick motions. Only pieces of them hit the ground. Then silence reigned throughout. Heaps of bodies surrounded Lanndon, but he was still alive.

"Thank the Creators," he sighed, raising his visor and inhaling deeply. The scents of battle hardly affected the corporal any more, but even that air was fresher than what he breathed inside his suit. Then he looked around, and gasped a second. Hydralisks surrounded him, their hellish faces glistening with saliva and bile and blood. Their shoulder plates slid apart, revealing row upon row of acid-coated spines that they prepared to launch at him. Lanndon raised a hand and cringed within his armor, but nothing happened. He blinked, and saw the Hydralisks closing their shoulder plates. Lanndon sighed with relief again, not caring why he still held his life, but only that he did. Then he saw a dozen creatures leaping through the air and towards him. They landed a foot away from him, surrounding him on all sides. At first he had guesed them to be a rescue party, but up close he could see the reality. True, the Marine armor was unmistakable, but these Marines had tentacles sprouting from behind their shoulder blades, and carapace broke through the armor in over a dozen places. These Marines had been infested, turned to the Zerg through toxins and parasites, forever slaves to their new overlords. They still carried their rifles, and as Lanndon tried to summon up the strength to fight again, one smashed the butt of his Impaler into Lanndon's face, his armor's visor still raised from before. A mist seemed to drift before Lanndon's eyes, and then all sunk into blackness. 

_Awake._

What? Where am I?

_You are here, and here you will stay until it is time._

What, time for what?

_Time for you to receive the fruits of your labors, time for you to recover your birthright._

_  
_I don't understand.

_Understanding will come in time, as will all things._

But I don't have time. My men are still out there, Kerrigan's still out there!

_No, they have all been saved. They have all received what you will soon receive._

_  
_But the Zerg, they were about to kill them all.

_The Zerg did not kill them._

Who are you? You have the most beautiful voice . . .

_I am your mother, your loving parent._

_  
_Am I dead, then?

_No, you are only just beginning to find your true life._

_  
_But I saw you dead!

_She awakened being in you, I awaken life in you._

_  
_More riddles. Why can't I move?

_Because that would undo all I have done for you. It is not yet time for you to move._

_  
_When will it be time?

_When it is best._

_  
_At least tell me your name. And that of my father, if you are my mother.

_I will tell you my name, but I must show Him to you. He would be displeased if it were otherwise._

_  
_Then do that.

_I am Sarah Kerrigan, James._

What a delightful coma. And who is my father, then?

_I am sure you will understand that this is no coma, when He makes His presence felt to you. I may only act as a conduit._

_  
_Go ahead then

_**  
Greetings, young one.**_

_  
_That feeling, that energy, that voice. Oh gods. Kerrigan, what have they done to you?

_Given me the greatest gift, and one which I will gladly share with you._

_  
_The gift of death would be preferable, you bitch.

_Death. Yes, that is too a gift. But life as a ruler of the Swarm is one I am sure you will find infinitely more appeasing._

_  
_Do your worst, I shall never give in.

_Ha, I've heard that so many times and I still find it amusing. You_ will _join me, James. Then Raynor and Mengsk and any other fools who cross me shall join you. This is the future. I am the future. And you are nothing, Terran. Nothing._

_Receiving incoming transmission . . ._

**Magnus Scriptor:** I hoped you like it. I'm already well into my next chapter, which will probably end up approximately the same length. And after that, I'm planning at least two more before I move on to another battle. MS, out.

_Transmission Terminated_


	2. Sergeant Al Talran: Part 1

_Receiving incoming transmission . . ._

**Magnus Scriptor: **This is Part 1 of Part 2, I suppose. My original intent was not to have many non-hero characters carry-over, but I couldn't resist the tempatation to cross-over characters from my other Starcraft stories. Luckily for you, that won't give you any hints, because they haven't been published here. So, glad you've gotten this far into my humble endeavor. Please drop me a line or two in a review, it;d be greatly appreciated.

_Transmission terminated._

As Lanndon left the Command Center, Sergeant Al Talran turned to follow Sarah Kerrigan through a set of doors leading to Central Command.  
"Ma'am, can you give me the low-down?"  
"The fleet's . . . been engaged by Zerg fliers and have to pull out, without us."  
Talran was sure she was lying, but knew it did not matter. He was nothing if not pragmatic.  
"Then we'll just have to hold out here until-"  
"There's no rescue. We're stuck here, waiting for a miracle."  
"Pardon me, ma'am, but I'm not going to sit and wait for anything. Miracles can be bought with Impalers and autocannons and Arclite shells."  
Kerrigan smiled. "And right you are sergeant, that's just what we're going to do. But don't concern yourself with that; I'll handle everything, your job is to keep me alive so I can do that."  
"As you say, ma'am."  
"Yes, just as I say." Kerrigan's eyes shifted constantly, and Talran knew she was nervous. Any further comment he might have made was cut off as they entered Central Command and Kerrigan began barking orders.  
"Com-sat, five miles surrounding the base. On the double! You, get interior defenses ready; we're holding the base as long as we can. You, I want every single man who can carry a weapon or wear armor ready to fight."  
Talran saw as Central Command burst into activity, every man smoothly punching commands into consoles and closely watching monitors. Kerrigan gazed at the Com-sat results and swore, quietly.  
"Damnit, Mengsk." Only Talran heard her, but he was more occupied with the Com-sat results himself. Every red blip that showed up represented a unit without the SoK Command Tag. And Al Talran was gazing into a giant circle of red surrounding the SoK base, and one growing rapidly smaller in diameter.  
"The bastards are coming for us already," he muttered.  
"Company!" snapped Kerrigan, and Talran raised an eyebrow. There was no company there, just a band of technicians. His eyes swept over the consoles, double-checking his initial impressions, and suddenly saw six feet of thin air ripple and coalesce.  
"Ghosts," he said under his breath. "Of course," he thought, "who else would be fitted to guard a Ghost? But then why am I here?"  
Six Ghosts decloaked around Kerrigan, rifles slung over their shoulders, but with their hands draped over their dual pistol holsters. Talran had seen Ghosts in action before, but never six at once. The stealth operatives were more deadly at hand-to-hand combat than a platoon of Marines, and their skill with weapons was unequaled in the Terran army. In the Academy, he had seen AI simulations where a single Ghost had taken out a pair of Arclites with a pistol and knife.  
"Yes, Captain?" hissed one of the Ghosts through his respirator.  
"We'll be fighting in a pitched battle for survival soon. Enact protocol 15."  
"Affirmative," responded the Ghost, and said nothing more.  
"Now," said Kerrigan, "transmit this information on a broad-band connection to anyone nearby. Divisions 1 and 5 will reinforce the outer defenses. Divisions 2, 3 and 4 will take up positions surrounding primary buildings. Division 6 will act as a mobile reserve, except for Bravo Company, which will be assigned to me. As commander of this base, I hereby institute Protocol G; the time is 14:57 hours, standard Tarsonis time."  
Talran smiled to himself. "Always wanted to try guerilla warfare against the Zerg; never thought anyone would be made enough to try it though," he thought. "Kerrigan has got spirit; anyone else would have given up already."  
"Talran," said Kerrigan, "you'll be taking command of Bravo Company, and you'll be with me until ordered otherwise."  
"Roger that," he responded. Kerrigan then surprised everyone by turning and walking straight out of Central Command. The Ghosts disappeared, and Talran followed her. Just as he the door closed behind him and he started to look for her, Kerrigan decloaked behind him.  
"Al Talran, you've been a good soldier," Kerrigan said, her attempt at a smile only enhancing her worried look. "You deserve to hear the truth."

"Just as you say, ma'am."

"We're all going to die if we try to fight. But the Zerg want me, and me alone. If no miracle happens, no one comes to rescue us, I will offer myself to them and-"

"Wait. Begging your pardon, but what the fuck are you talking about? The Zerg are ravenous and irrational beasts; they won't spare us if you get taken by them!"

"The Zerg, I-I can hear them speak to me. They tell me that every death here is on me; every death is because of my selfish choice. I can't block out that voice; it's stronger than my Ghost training, I can't stop it. And the nightmares, they haven't stopped since Mengsk took me from the Confederates."

"Look, I can't believe you'd do this, but I'm a soldier, and I'll follow your orders as far as I am able. It's your choice, not mine. But give us a chance, the Zerg haven't overrun us yet."

"You're right Al. But listen to me: if our lines are breached and we are overrun, I'm ordering our structures into orbit and giving myself up. Anyone who can't or won't leave with the buildings, they'rewelcome to their own choices."

"Yes ma'am," said Talran.

"You do, of course, realize that if you breathe a word of this conversation to anyone, I'll kill you myself.""Yes, ma'am."

"Good," said Kerrigan, and stalked past him. Talran noticed her hand gently caressing the K-15 pistol on her thigh, and frowned. His Impaler rifle was slung over his shoulder, and his own hands drifted across the strap for a moment before finally lowering to his sides as he started after her. Just then, something hit his shoulder from behind. He half-turned, and suddenly his arms were pinned behind him. Before his eyes the air began to shimmer once more, and a Ghost appeared in front of him.

"What do you want?" snarled Talran, tired of playing games while the whole base was about to be wiped out.

"Easy, sergeant. We're only here to talk," hissed the Ghost, spreading his hands in front of him in a gesture of peace. "Protocol merely demands that there not be an unseemly disturbance, thus you were restrained. Protocol is satisfied, men. Stand down."

"What are we talking about?" asked Talran in a more even tone, his arms now free.

"There's some things you need to know to handle yourself in this situation. Mengsk's power hungry nature made something like this inevitable, it is only a pity one such as Kerrigan is to be sacrificed so heartlessly."

"What are you talking about? Mengsk betrayed us? And what would you know? I've dealt with the Ghost program, you're hardly human anymore!"

"Kerrigan lied to you. Mengsk ordered the fleet to pull out; you're officially collateral, soldier. As for our humanity, well, I assure you that there are degrees of it in any man, the range is merely greater for those of my kind. Myself and my comrades are not matters of record, you see." The Ghost permitted himself a small smile, though hidden under his cowl. "And so we are not bound by the constraints of standard training and expectations."

"So you guys are what, guardians or something?"

"We are associates of Magistrate Collins and ex-Marshall Raynor; who have shown to be more foresighted than others in dealing with Mengsk. The credit for first realziing the dangers of serving him must be given to us, but we are glad to have a working relationship with Collins and Raynor."

"So is this it?"

"Hardly. Kerrigan does not know who she is, what she is. While she does have a certain aptitude for combat, she is nothing unique in that regard. Indeed, she is little more than average in any area, except for one. Her psychic powers are considerable, though currently surpressed, and the Confederacy was running experiments on her before she was liberated. I was on the team that broke her out, and I gained access to some records that I deemed . . . unfit for Mengsk and his cronies. Apparently, the Confederacy was planning to use the Zerg as a weapon to fight the Protoss, though they were not of their creation. Kerrigan was to be their tool, and her mind was altered to be potentially able to dominate the minds of Zerg _en masse, _her power overriding the commands even of the Cerebrates. In time, perhaps she could even have turned some away from the Overmind."

"Then we are saved!"

"Nay, we are only damned more deeply. Kerrigan's powers cannot be awoken here or now, even if we knew how for sure. However, the Overmind's interest in her and her alone makes it all too likely that It is fully aware of her. We cannot allow such a risk to happen. However, even Raynor and Collins have become attached to her, though Raynor's attraction to her is far greater than Collins' hopes of future comradeship. The problem here is one of trust. Our services and knowledge are far too valuable to be rejected, but if Raynor becomes aware that we have slain his love, then I fear that is what may happen."

"You want me to kill her, murder my own commander?"

"We want you to do the right thing. We'd like you to serve humanity. Relief may yet come; Raynor and Collins assured us that they would do their best to evac us, and anyone who gave us the assistance we demanded. We're offering you a way out, sergeant. And it will be open to Kerrigan too, if she is able to make it that far."

"So I don't have to kill her." The Ghost threw his head back and laughed. Though the mirth was garbled by his respirator, Talran stilll was shocked; No one had ever heard of Ghosts laughing.

"No, sergeant. You do not have to kill her. Only if there is no hope of survival. We will support you and keep you and her alive for as long as we can, but there may come a point when we will have to observe the better part of valor and remove ourselves from the battlefield. To live to fight another day, as the cliche has it."

"Then this is some kind of contingency plan."

"Hardly a malign one, sergeant. But if all else fails, we will have to trust you to do your best. Killing a Ghost is not an easy matter, our kind has as habit of being supernaturally lucky. Still, you have psychic potential, which is why she chose you, and why we chose you."

"You mean I could be a Ghost?"

"Aye. You kept too low a profile to be admitted in your childhood like many of us, and the war broke out before you could be spirited away to a secret facility."

"I'll do as you say, Ghost."

"Very good, sergeant. I am sure you will find the choice you made to be the right one."

"Wait, who are you?"

"Some secrets must remain kept. However, if you wish to contact me, the whispered word: 'Elthanion' should provide results. If you do not find me or one of mine shortly afterward, I suggest you consign yourself to whatever god you believe to exist."

"I see. May I resume my duties?"

"Of course. If you are questioned, as I am sure you will be, simply tell Kerrigan that you were contacting Bravo Company."

"But she'll expect them to confirm that."

"They'll be able to. I've been in contact with them, they know to follow your orders unquestioningly. They'll be waiting for you in Mess Hall B, which is close to Armoy 5, Kerrigan's present location. I suggest you meet her there quickly; dear Sarah could use some feelings of security."

"This is very confusing, but I will do as you say."

"If our actions are successful, you will find answers to your questions after we are done here."

"Okay. I'll see you when you come to bring me and Kerrigan to your evac site."

"Your optimism is refreshin. May your forecast be true. Be strong, warrior."

"Strength to you as well," replied Talran, speaking words he did not recognize. The Ghost nodded and disappeared. Though Talran strained to make them out, no footfalls could be heard. The six operatives who had surrounded him were somewhere, but there was no telling where. Talran muttered a curse under his breath, and double-timed it down the corridors towards Armory 5.

_Receiving incoming transmission . . ._

**Magnus Scriptor:** Hmm . . . what have we here? Who is this Ghost? What does Elthanion mean? Is there some sort of conspiracy here? Why isn't anyone reviewing this piece of work (or piece of , if you prefer). Anyhow, answers come next chapter. Except that last question, that might not be answered for some time. In summation: to be continued next chapter.

_Transmission terminated_


	3. Sergeant Al Talran: Part 2

Talran found Kerrigan in the armory, he nodded to her as the doors slid shut behind him.

"Ma'am,."

"Sergeant, I was wondering where you were." Kerrigan's voice was level, but Talran could tell she was feeling down by the slump of her shoulders as she bent over a table. Kerrigan was filling up her tactical vest with magazines and grenades. Her C-10 Canister Rifle lay to her right, stripped down and cleaned.

_  
_"Apologies, I was contacting Bravo Company. They're in Mess Hall B, waiting for their orders."

"Good. Load up, sergeant, while you're here. Being my personal bodyguard, I see no reason for you not to have access to this weaponry."

"Much appreciated, ma'am." Talran hefted a combat shotgun and lined up the sights on a target hanging from the wall. A light squeeze on the trigger and a flurry of paper flew from the target, a large hole where the center of the head had been. Talran grinned and slung the shotgun over his shoulder. Talran checked his armor's storage slots and realized there wasn't room for any more equipment, so he began stuffing shotgun shells into the last few open sections, sealing them after they filled.

Kerrigan smiled at him, and brushed a wayward lock of red hair off her face. Her green eyes softened for a moment as she looked at Talran. But she didn't see the young Marine. Instead her imagination focused on an older man, balding, but fit, with a determined chin covered by dark stubble. His armor was green, indicating his high rank, and a heavily modified Impaler rifle was resting in his gauntletted hands. Kerrigan reached out a hand, murmuring "Jim," softly. Just as sudden as the vision had came, it disappeared; James Raynor almost seeming to shake his head at the Ghost as he disappeared. It was Kerrigan's love, just as she had last seen him, fighting Omega Squadron on another platform. Kerrigan snatched her hand back as Talran turned and saluted, and she turned away from him, hiding the warm tears trickling unbidden down her face.

"All ready, ma'am, ready to leave at your leisure," announced Talran. Kerrigan slumped for a moment, and turned back to him, wiping the tears from her face with the back of her hand, knuckles furrowing her soft skin for a moment. She smiled wanly, and nodded to him, pulling on her dark gloves and setting her night-vision headset firmly above her brow. She then hefted her rifle and strode through the door, Talran following a few paces behind.

The Mess Hall doors opened wide enough for even the armored Marine to slip through, and the two found the twenty men of Bravo Company cleaning their weapons and talking the talk of soldiers everywhere. The Marines had their armor on as well, but had entered from the exterior doors, which were wider than Talran's way in had been. They all stood and snapped to attention as their sergeant noticed Kerrigan's presence.

"Permission to report, sir," he stated, eyes firmly locked on Kerrigan's and at full attention. Kyle Keavon was a tough soldier, and bore the scars of over a dozen battles. While his company was usually in the thick of the fighting, their survival rate was exemplary. Talran couldn't have picked a better company for Kerrigan's bodyguard out of every unit the SoK had at New Gettysburg.

"Granted, sergeant," responded Kerrigan, brushing her forehead with the side of her hand. "At ease, soldiers."

"Bravo Company is at 100; every man has reported intact equipment and a full load-out. We're ready for whatever you want us to do."

"Just a baby-sitting job, sorry sergeant. You're to be my bodyguards, under the command of Sergeant Talran." Talran and Keavon exchanged brief nods. Talran held a senior position, but knew Keavon to be his equal as a soldier. Keavon knew the same, but was content to be under the command of a capable soldier.

"It will be our pleasure, and honor," responded Keavon, with a slight bow. A smile twitched at the corner of Kerrigan's lips, and she nodded.

"Very well, sergeant. We'll be moving out to support the perimeter in any way we can. We'll assume the Zerg assault to be focused on this base, as an attempt to capture me and destroy any reserves or reinforcements we might have. We're going to circumvent that by moving away from the base, thus dividing the Zerg forces. Evac is not an impossibility, but for now we'll have to make our own way. So stay sharp. We'll be using Hanson formation, so each man cover his sector. It's an urban situation, Zerg can jump us from building windows. I need coverage from every angle. We clear?"

"Clear, ma'am!" declared Keavon, after a brief glance at his men.

"Good. We'll be moving around the perimeter, Sergeant Talran and I will determine our exact course as we move. The Zerg assault will be difficult to fend off. However, if they move from their first break in our perimeter straight to the base, then we can pull the perimeter in and crush the Zerg force. That's been their standard strategy so far. I'll direct the Wraith squadrons to eliminate their Overlords, allowing us air superiority with the use of cloaking devices, and removing the Zerg's tactical abilities. Everything else will be up to Impalers and Marine grit and muscle."

The Marines responded with a cheer, and Kerrigan nodded. She turned to Talran. "Sergeant, execute order 76, I've just outlined it, but I need it sent to every perimeter position. Demand confirmation from each." Talran nodded and lowered his visor, entering communicaitons status. Kerrigan pulled Keavon aside with a jerk of her head, and began a whispered conversation.

"I'm not sure about Talran, he's been acting a bit strangely. I don't know if he's suffering some kind of emotional backlash, but he seems more nervous than he should."

"With respect, sir, almost certain death does seem to have an adverse effect on most Marine's moods," responded Keavon.

"Talran's got better chances than anyone here except me and the other Ghosts," Kerrigan said. "You and he, that is," she hastily amended as Keavon raised his eyebrows.

"That's more like it," said the soldier, smiling. "I'll keep an eye on him if you want. If he starts to go rogue or anything, I'll cap him myself; that's a promise. But we don't have much time left until our perimeter gets hit. We need to get out of here now." Kerrigan took a deep breath and nodded at Keavon's words.

"Right. Let's get out of here then, as soon as Talran's done with his comm. links. You're still under his command, unless something happens, that is."

"Yes, sir!"

Kerrigan nodded, finishing their conversation. The Marines all stood ready now, each with their Impaler in hand. Their visors were still up, and Kerrigan looked each in the eye as she strode past them. Some stared stolidly back, others winced as their gaze collided with her dark green orbs. If the state of one's soul truly can be determined by the eyes, then no Ghost Talran had ever seen even had one. Kerrigan was the exception, but only at rest. When action stirred her, when the familiar steel fabrics of her Ghost environment suit enmeshed her body, then her eyes went cold.

Kerrigan finished her inspection, and looked to Talran for a moment. He had raised his visor again, and was awaing her command. Kerrigan closed her eyes for a second, and a tear welled up inside her, so strong that she could not deny it. Her left eye filled with it, and it finally slipped out. Every soldier there saw it creep down her cheek. Kerrigan let the tear lie there, and opened her eyes. They were as cold as before, and she nodded to Talran, her mane of red hair bobbing along with her head's motion.

Talran took a step forwad as Keavon joined the rest of Bravo Company in their twin ranks.

"All right, Warbringers. You know what's out there, and there's not one of you who hasn't scored his dozen kills yet. You've all proved yourselves to your wives, your families, your buddies, your whores," this elicited a chuckle from the men, a few exchanging knowing glances. "But this time, you're proving yourselves to me. And believe it; the gods themselves don't make it harder for you to gain their respect. Drop your shades and lift your pipes; it's time to show what you can do," finished Talran. "Points out of ten," he added, quietly, getting a final laugh from the soldiers. Each now lowered his visor and raised his long rifle. Talran hit a button and the exterior doors whooshed open. Kerrigan raised her hand, and pointed forwards.

Talran led the way, followed by five Warbringers. Kerrigan followed them, then the last column of Warbringers, led by Keavon. The Marines formed themselves into semi circles, a precautionary measure, even though the Zerg should not have gotten any warriors this deep this fast. An Armored Personnel Carrier pulled up, the green Vespene fueled engines keeping it in a hover several feet above the ground. A ramp lowered, and Kerrigan and her guards filed in. The ramp raised again, blocking out the light. After a moment, yellow lights blinked on inside the APC. Though no Marines suffered from claustrophobia, it was hard for any of them to resist turning on their suit lights in the moment of darkness. Countless comrades had perished for such mistakes, and the memories were hardly something Marines savored.

Talran opened a private channel to Kerrigan's comm system.

"Lanndon went to the north, so either east or west is fine as far as I'm concerned."

"The terrain's more difficult on the west side; we'll be needed there, since the Goliaths can't support the Marines as well."

"Then the west side it is." Talran switched comm channels to the APC interior speakers, directing the pilot as well as the other Marines. "Okay, we'll be moving to the western command post, ASAP. When we're there, we'll evaluate the situation and act accordingly. The terrain will be difficult, so expect less Goliath support. Talran out."

_Receiving incoming transmission . . ._

**Magnus Scriptor: **That's the next chapter. Talran's story is turning out to be rather interesting. Yes, I know, few answers to any questions, but I'm thinking that you'll get a lot of explanations next chapter. Still, don't expect everything yet; the stories may be wrapping up, but characters continue on. See you around.

Also, thanks to "Deltasniper ()" for writing the first review of this story. Much appreciated, mate. I don't include a lot of background for a reason: it's not yet relevant. I killed off Lanndon fairly quickly, (or did I?) so who's to say I'm not just going to give Talran the same treatment. After all, there's no survivors of New Gettysburg, right? (right?) I guess you'll just have to find out. But details will be provided where relevant, and when they do not interrupt the flow of the narrative.

_Transmission terminated_


	4. Interlude: Battles of the Mind

_Receiving incoming transmission . . ._

**Magnus Scriptor:** This is merely an interlude, the next chapter is packaged with it, though. It should clear up a few questions that are probably bouncing around your heads by now. Unfortunately, you have no frame of reference (at least in my take on the Starcraft universe) for the normal behavior of a Ghost. Suffice it to say, then, that Kerrigan is behaving a lot more strangely than ever before. And with that, I'll leave you to the story.

_Transmission terminated_

Talran kept his eyes on Kerrigan, under his lowered visor. There had been something strange about her that he had noticed. Talran had dealt with a lot of life or death situations in his career, and had seen a lot of people die, a lot of friends, a lot of family. He had seen soldiers sobbing uncontrollably on their knees, cradling charred or bloody remnants of lovers, children, parents, siblings. Talran had done his share of the same, clenching the dirt mounds, unmarked by any stone, where he had laid the last of his blood-family to rest. But he found strength in his duty-family, his brother soldiers, and so continued to fight. Talran had seen soldiers incapacitated with grief, he had seen their eyes flare with the desire for vengeance, he had seen them bare their necks to the claws of monsters, hoping only to see their loves again as they passed beyond the barriers. But he had not seen anything like that in Kerrigan. She had been betrayed, condemned to die away from the man she loved, by the order of the man she thought of as a father. And yet, it was not hatred that he had seen flash in her eyes, as she stepped into the vehicle and raised her goggles again, brushing them free of the dirt kicked up by the APC's engines; it was something else. Something darker. And so Talran watched her, and waited silently, as she fought a battle unseen, against a foe unknown.

_Get out of my head, you bastard!_

_**Young one, your will is strong, but it cannot last.**_

_Against a worm like yourself? I think I have no worries on that account!_

_**Your false bravado does not give me pause; I know your weakness.**_

_You know nothing; and I won't let you learn any more._

_**Where are you, my child?**_

_Get out of my head!_

_**Where are you going?**_

_No! I'll tell you nothing._

_**WHERE?!**_

_No . . . no . . ._

_**Tell me, and it will all go away.**_

_stop, please . . . I can't_

_**You must. My might compells you.**_

_But, but my friends . . ._

_**All will be tortured if you do not reveal this little thing. Come, I do not wish you harm, only a little information.**_

_I cannot . . . I . . . .must not!_

_**TELL ME! MY MIGHT HAS BROUGHT LOW COUNTLESS CIVILIZATIONS, THE UNIVERSE BURNS OR FLOWERS AT MY COMMMAND, AND YOU SHALL NOT DENY ME, MORTAL! Already I peel away the feeble barriers you erect against my presence, already I move closer to that which I seek. You shall not deny me my will, mortal. You shall not prevent my love for you from being fulfilled, my daughter.**_

_Yes . . . it is right. It is best._

_**Now, do what I ask of you, and you shall know eternal bliss.**_

_Yes, it is best. I will obey._

_**Kneel before me little one, all will be forgiven; all will be forgotten. Redeem yourself, my child!**_

_All I am and have is yours, I await only your presence._

_**Then your destiny is begun. Thank me as your god, Kerrigan, for I am no other.**_

_Receiving incoming transmission . . ._

**Magnus Scriptor: **Oooh, scary. But don't stop reading; the next chapter's up too! I'll catch you at the end of it.

Transmission terminated


	5. Sergeant Al Talran: Part 3

Talran suddenly remembered what the Ghost had said to him, how he had strong psychic potential. Talran fought back a grin at the thought of trying to read Kerrigan's mind, but then grew serious. His powers were as yet untrained, and he did not even know he had them. There was a sort of empathy between him and others, he realized, but he had never before known why he could understand them so well, connect to them so perfectly. And all Marines knew what the unrestrained powers of a Ghost could be like. There had been many stories of such things, buildings leveled by the sheer force of a young child's mind, platoons of Marines found with their brains leaking from their ears. So Talran calmed his thoughts and prepared himself for the upcoming battle, as he always did.

The other Marines were a bit restless, but Kerrigan's presence kept them still and quiet. Even Keavon, known for his rousing pep talks, was unusually quiet. Then Kerrigan's head jerked up from where it had dropped, and her eyes flashed open. In them, for a second, Talran could have sworn he saw a flash of the same red that burned from the eyes of the Zerg minions. But she blinked, and her eyes were green, so green that he could not believe that they had been red before. Passing it off to a trick of the light, Talran spoke.

"Ma'am. Is there a problem?"

"No," replied Kerrigan, a little shakily. "Everything is all right." Her tone was dull, almost as if she was merely repeating words that had no meaning to her. Talran sympathized: she had to lie to them, even though no one here imagined that the situation was anything close to "all right."

"Very well, I apologize for the interruption." Kerrigan blinked again, and straightened. Her natural color began to return, and Talran only then realized that she had been quite pale before.

"No, sergeant, we'll need to be ready. ETA should be just a few minutes. The Zerg have probably hit the outposts by now; let's just hope we arrive before they hit the perimeter too."

"Yes, ma'am." Talran adjusted his grip on his Impaler, and spoke again. "All right, soldiers, let's get ready! I want everyone here with eyes full open; we don't know what's going to be on the other side of that ramp when we arrive, so be ready for anything? If it's Zerg, shoot it. If it's Terran, don't. We'll be taking up a forward position, along with anyone else who'll follow us that deep in. We'll hold the rubble in front of this section for as long as we can, then fall back to the Goliaths. More orders when you need to hear them. Any questions?" Silence. "Then let's get ready to rumble."

The APC grinded to a halt a minute later, and all the soldiers began unbuckling their restraints. As soon as they were off, Talran gave the access code for the exterior hatch. The Marines charged through it, covering every inch of the outside area with sharp eyes and the long barrels of their Impalers, but there were no Zerg to be found. Instead a dozen SoK Marines welcomed them.

"Stand down, sergeant, entry is clear," said Kerrigan, and Talran nodded to his men. Each lowered his Impaler immediately, but their eyes continued to rove over the burning wreckage of buildings, seeking anything hostile to put down.

"Sergeant Talran, Commander Kerrigan, it's good to see you," said the lead Marine. "I'm Corporal Rethas, I've been in command since the sergeant got mobbed. Bunch of Zerglings tore the poor guy to shreds; I had to order in a Firebat to take them all down. Didn't do any harm to cremate him either."

"What's the status of the defense, Corporal?" asked Talran.

"We're still here. There's a dozen Goliaths spread over thirteen city blocks; one at each intersection. We have two Arclites, but neither can Siege. We've been asking for the upgrade all mission and-" Talran cut him off.

"Save it, soldier. What are the infantry dispositions?"

"We've only got a dozen Firebats and seventyish Marines. No specialists."

"Looks like we came to the right place. Is there a citadel where we can fall back to?"

"The Bank is in fairly good condition, and the vault's supposed to be secure. That's our ammo dump; we're well supplied at least."

"That's our fallback point," said Talran. "Okay, the Zerg have to come in through this corridor here," Talran pointed, "because all the others are blocked by rubble. Thanks to one of our Battlecruisers, even the Zerg couldn't get through that in less than a week. So they'll funnel in through there. But the Goliaths can't support that close, and without them, infantry can't hold for long. So we have a defense in depth. I'll take my squad forward to their entry point and hold them off for as long as I can. Then we'll fall back to the Goliaths. Eventually, we may get pushed back to the Bank. That's our final position." 

"What about their flyers?" asked Rethar. "They've been hitting us pretty hard recently; most of our Turrets are down."

"We'll have a Wraith squadron overhead. They should provide all the air support we need; the main assault will be directed at our base through another sector."

"Fine. I'll alert the soldiers. Best of luck, but you'd better get going," Rethar pointed a finger at the horizon, where hundreds of little black dots formed a cloud racing towards the defenders, "they're coming, and moving fast."

"Roger that. Alright, Warbringers, move out!" yelled Talran, and sprinted forwards. Even on the rough terrain, his PCS made a quick run easy for the sergeant, and the squad soon arrived at the long street that was the only way in from the Zerg Hive Cluster. There were only the thirteen soldiers there, only the thirteen. Talran quickly sized up the area and made decisions.

"Sergeant Keavon, take five men and secure that bombed out truck; it'll provide good cover for you. The rest of you Marines, take up positions there, there, there, or there," he said, pointing to large pieces of fallen rubble, large enough for even a Marine to hide behind in full armor. "Kerrigan, stay with me; we'll support from the rear. All ready?"

"Sir, yes sir!" barked the Marines.

"Here they come!" bellowed Keavon, as the pounding of hooves upon the ground began to echo throughout the streets. He moved quickly, pulling a pack from his back. "Merkon, Zantis, get the stationary up and running!" Two Marines in his group pulled packs off of their own backs, and unzipped them. They pulled metal parts and boxes out, hurriedly assembling a stationary machine gun. Merkon slotted the last piece into place, and Zantis loaded the first bullet on the long belt. They lifted it together, setting the bipod on a chunk of cement. Merkon grabbed the handle and aimed the gun towards the oncoming horde, while Zantis set his rifle down and prepared to help feed the bullets through.

The other Marines sighted down their Impalers, each in command of overlapping firezones which together covered the width of the street. Talran began pulling FFEDs from his own pack, and mounting them behind the defenders, as a last resort to cover their eventual retreat. The Forward Firing Explosive Devices were filled with thousands of shards of metal, which at the push of a button would explode out with the force of five HE grenades.

Talran nodded to Kerrigan, and passed her the detonator. She playfully flipped the cover back, exposing the red button. Suddenly a shadow seemed to pass over her face, and her thumb lowered until it touched the cold metal. Talran gasped as he saw her eyes. They were almost entirely closed, but he saw pinpricks of red between the lids. Then her eyes snapped open, back to their former green, and she slapped the cover closed with her hand, locking it into place. Her eyes met Talran's, searching for something. Talran held her gaze for as long as he could, and then lowered the visor on his PCS.

"With your permission, ma'am, it is time we prepared to engage."

"Continue"

"Warbringers, ready!" shouted Talran. "No heroes, no deaths. Hold them as long as you can, then retreat. We form a firing line on me, and pull back together. We'll have FFEDs covering us, and the Goliaths are only a block away. The Zerg are tough, but this is our battle, our terrain, our base. I don't care what you've heard or seen, they bleed like anyone else."

"Ready, sir!" shouted the Marines as one, Keavon lending his voice as well. Their grenades and spare ammunition lay on the ground beside them, each man under the best cover he could find. Merkon, swung the long barrel of the stationary gun back and forth, checking the resistance in the pivot. Zantis rummage through one of the packs, and grabbed a grease cone. He slowly squeezed a bit of the lubricant between the rotating cylinders, and Merkon nodded his approval. The Zerg were in sight now, moving very fast. Half a mile and closing.

Keavon checked his ammo count; the stationary machine gun took up a lot of space in his pack. He counted five spare magazines, with one hundred rounds apiece. With the one in his Impaler, that made six hundred rounds, or sixty bursts of ten apiece. With a bit of luck, one burst could take down a Zergling, usually two would have to do the job. He only had two High Explosive Grenades, and one Fragmentation Grenade. Keavon lay the grenades on the ground to his right, and the spare mags to his left. His eyes noted the position of each of his Marines, and his PCS on-board computer mapped their firing fields, and calculated the most effective one for him, based on that data. Keavon shifted his rifle correspondingly. The Zerg were seventeen-hundred feet away.

Talran clenched the grip of his combat shotgun tightly, and looked at Kerrigan. She appeared composed, and had secreted the detonator in one of her many pouches. Talran was still unsettled by her actions, and resolved to keep an eye on her, if he could. Talran pumped the shotgun, and an unspent shell flew out the ejection chamber. He snatched it out of the air and loaded it again. He had seen a Ghost use this shotgun once, on a surveillance video. He had knocked down a dozen Zerglings with as many shells, the automatic shotgun firing as fast as he pulled the trigger. Talran was ready. The Zerg were fourteen-hundred feet away.

Kerrigan sighted in her scope, her mind barely aware of what her body was doing. The wind had picked up on the platform again, and the scope needed to be recalibrated. That was what her mind was telling her, but it was a slow and quiet message. Her motions seemed as fast as ever, but there was something in her head, something slowing her down. She had felt it creep down her arm and into her hand, almost pressing the detonator before she could control it. But that effort left her weak, and it did not stop. Nothing could stop it. Then she suddenly felt it withdraw. She twisted a knob on her scope a half-millimeter, and was ready. Kerrigan did not know what had caused the sudden retreat of that presence, but was in no mood to question her luck. If she had looked behind her at that time, she might have seen a sudden wavering in the air, the sudden dropping of a cloaking field. She could not sense it, and her mind was already focused elsewhere as the cloaking field wrapped itself around the dark figure once again.

"Fire!" ordered Talran, and the roar that issued from a dozen voices was only matched by the deeper rattle of their Impalers.

_Receiving incoming transmission . . ._

**Magnus Scriptor: **Hmmm . . . another mysterious player in the game for Kerrigan's mind. Is she lost? Is a new presence controlling her? Does Talran's squad even stand a chance? Unfortunately, these questions won't be answered for some time. I've got a good idea of where this story is going to be going (no, it's not going to stay a random collection of vignettes), but I need to write another story before I can proceed. You'll understand once you start reading "First Contact," my new and unpocoming story. Chapter 1 will be up soon.

_Transmission transmitted_


	6. Sergeant Al Talran: Finale

"We've lost," gasped Talran. It had been only half an hour since they first opened fire on the Zerg, but after five retreats, the squad was down to only two Warbringers, Keavon, Talran, and Kerrigan. The Zerg had smashed through the main defense perimeter in a dozen places, swerving around to attack strongholds from several sides. The few Goliaths and Siege Tanks were crushed under dozens of Zerg, ripping the Fortium plating to shreds and butchering the occupants.

The remnants of the squad were hiding out in a small building, on its second floor. Surrounded by Zerg unaware of their presence, they waited in apprehension for something to change. Kerrigan had activated a signal beacon to the small rescue fleet stationed at the Command Center, but communications had been cut and no one knew if the Command Center was still standing, much less in a position to rescue them.

"Damn straight," replied Talran, letting his shotgun rest on its sling. "But that's no reason to stop fighting. One less Zerg-"

"Bullshit!" barked Keavon. "You can't fight them with attrition! Don't think my Marines are so dumb that blatant lies and empty boasts will help them."

"Whatever," replied Talran. "Anyways, there's more to this than you think."

"I highly doubt that you know more about this situation than I do, Al."

"Boys," Kerrigan interrupted, "wouldn't it be a better use of your time to try and find a way out of this situation?"

"We haven't found one yet, ma'am," replied Talran.

"Look," said Keavon, "I'm not saying to stop fighting, far from it. But our base is lost, and we are low on supplies."

"Yeah, and it ain't like there's any cavalry about to come over the hill to save us," added one of the other Marines.

"Okay, I've had enough of this. There should be a basement in this place, maybe there's a tunnel or something," said Talran.

"The odds of that are very low," replied Kerrigan.

"The odds of getting us all to shut up by making us look for something are somewhat higher," replied the sergeant, and set off down the stairs. The house was a rich one, and the thick carpet went a long way to silencing the treads of even the heavy Marine PCS.

Talran sighted down his shotgun, prepared for anything. He nudged the basement door open with its muzzle, and slowly climbed the stairs down. The rest of the Marines followed the sergeant, with Kerrigan directly behind him.

Talran gave the basement a quick once over and spoke.

"Okay, it looks completely empty. That's the bad news. The good news is that-" he was cut off by a crash. Steel and concrete crashed into the ground, creating a thick smoke outside. Kerrigan peered through a narrow window.

"An Ultralisk is demolishing buildings, good thing its going the other way," she reported.

"Either way, I say we get out of here," said Keavon. "Most of the Zerg have advanced beyond us anyhow."

"I agree," said Talran. "Let's go." Kerrigan remained by the window, for some unknown reason, as the other Marines began to head back up the stairs. Then there was a huge crashing sound, and cracks began to appear in the ceiling.

The Marines sprinted out, and Talran threw a quick glance over his shoulder and saw Kerrigan struggling, pinned under a large slab of concrete that had fallen on her. Then the rest of the house began to collapse, starting with her end. Smoke obscured her, and Talran moved fast. He hit the Stim Pack injectors, and gasped as he felt the adrenalin and endorphins coursing through his veins. The renewed strength allowed him to dive through the open door just as it collapsed behind him, along with the rest of the house. A second Ultralisk roared as the house crumbled, and then saw the fugitives. It roared a second time, and, from under the ground, Zerg began to tunnel out of their burrows.

"Follow me!" yelled Keavon, and kicked the door of a second building down. They quickly sprinted into the atrium, Zerg close behind. There was a giant skylight above them, and twin stairways leading up, but they were out of time. Zerg appeared on all sides, and charged at them. The four Marines formed a circle, back-to-back, and fired on their attackers.

"Elthanion!" bellowed Talran and Keavon at the same time. Both stared at each other in pure unadulterated amazement, as the skylight shattered into a million pieces.

Each shard of glass was suddenly surrounded by a thin blue glow, and each buried itself in the skull of an advancing Zerg warrior, killing them. The Zerg fell like wheat before the scythe. Keavon and Talran both felt pressure on the sides of their head, like someone was squeezing their temples, and then disappeared. The other two Marines shimmered a moment, and also disappeared.

Ravenously seeking flesh to rend, the Zerg turned on each other in their fury, until they were silencing by the crack of a whip. A strange figure strode towards them. He stood at over seven feet tall, and iron muscles covered every inch of him. But covering the muscles was a green ooze and a dark bile, tentacles wrapped around the once-proud Terran soldier, and it was the crack of one of them that stilled the ravenous Zerg.

"Desissssst," he hissed at them. "Ceassse your ssslaughter, for we have much to do. Desssstroy the other Terrans. Go!"

Obedient to his commands, the Zerg charged off in every direction, seeking human flesh to devour. The warrior paused for a moment, musing, then walked slowly to the center of the room. His glaring red eyes examined the ground, the walls, the skylight, the air itself, and came to one conclusion.

"Nak'thon kal," he hissed, and quickly left the building, disappearing, if such a striking figure could disappear, into the folds of the vast Zerg Swarm. And above the space station, hidden from sight by many devices, a long, sleek ship hovered in space. And its commander watched the battle below, though thousands of miles away, his silver eyes piercing every cloud and shadow.

When Talran felt the pressure increase on his temples, he had passed out. When he awoke, he had no idea where he was or what was going on. He was in a room, lying on a bed and dressed in robes of white, trimmed with a silver edge. Talran examined the room. It was no Terran cell or quarters, of that he was certain. Talran therefore guessed it to be Protoss, as he had heard that their ships were richly decorated and ornate, though incredibly deadly.

Slowly and cautiously, Talran moved his head from side to side, unsure of what might happen if he were to try and escape. The door was not closed, and he carefully looked over the entire room, checking for anything that would stop him exiting. He found nothing, and quickly sprang out of bed and towards the doorway.

"Ah!" he gasped as he saw through it. The empty doorway looked out on space, endless light-years of nothing but stars, so far away he could hardly see them. Talran began pacing the room, his usual habit when he had to arrange his thoughts.

_If I am a prisoner, then where are my captors? If I am free, then why am I restricted to this room? What is going on? Why was my life saved? What has happened to all the others?_

"Your questions shall be answered soon enough," said a voice. Talran whirled around, and found the speaker at the doorway, facing him. "Good day to you, Albert Talran," said the speaker in greeting. Talran did a double-take. This man, if man he was, for, though he looked Terran, was well over seven feet tall. He was robed in black, and wore loose black pants under his long robes, which were open in front, revealing strong, toned muscles. His hair was long and swept back, and was a dark brown, and his eyes were jade green.

"Who are you?" asked Talran.

"I am Michael Allard, late of the Confederacy's Alpha Squadron elite Ghost Unit 6. And you are Albert Talran, former Confederate Marines, former militant in the Sons of Korhal. You excel in combat both armed and unarmed, and show significant Psionic potential. You were not taken as a Ghost because of your parents' connections to Confederate government; they were both negotiators for the Confederacy during the Guild Wars, and their loyal service extended even through the Korhal disaster."

"You know a lot about me."

"Indeed, and much more than I have time or inclination to mention, at present. You will come with me."

"Look, I don't know why you're wearing those pajamas or how you know so much about me, but I certainly don't know why the fuck I should do anything you say!"

"Defiance, though in this case badly worded, is always something curious to me. Words are empty with action to back them up, and only prove you a lesser man if you take no such action. You will come with me. I would have advised you to obey, but I do not think you will listen, especially now."

Talran threw himself at the former Ghost, knowing his attack was most likely hopeless, but counting on his greater bulk to do some damage to the lithe operative. But Allard simply stepped to the side and let Talran slam into the floor, elbows first. The operative then took Talran's hands and pulled him to his feet, releasing him as he did so.

"Would you like to try again, or are we done here?"

Talran's response was a shout of rage, and he delivered what would have been a punishing series of blows, if they had connected. Allard ducked and weaved and Talran's fists only discomfited a few air molecules. Allard then crouched, grabbed the former Marine's foot, and circumscribed a circle around him with it, sending Talran tumbling to the floor once more. His eyes met Talran's, who silently nodded, and rose to his feet, hands in front of him in submission.

"No need for restraints, as long as you come willingly now."

"I do; I have no choice."

"Oh come now, there is always a choice. You simply chose the path of least resistance which, incidentally, is the correct one in this case."

Talran scoffed quietly, and Allard let the matter rest.

"So how are we going to get out of here?"

"Follow me."

Allard stepped to the doorway to space, and walked straight through it. Talran saw him disappear, as if into thin air. Hesitating only a moment, the ex-Marine followed him. There was a prickling sensation, as though an electric charge was passing over his skin. Then the temperature seemed to drop a notch, then raise. Talran noticed a change in pressure, causing his head to ache a little. But it was nothing compared to the change that took place last time, and Talran remained fully conscious. Talran blinked once, and he was in a large hallway.

The walls were dark grey and perfectly smooth. The floor and ceiling was jet-black, like obsidian. Talran could almost see his reflection in the burnished floor. He looked up, and saw Allard beckon to him. The sergeant followed Allard down the long corridor, until it ended at a great doorway. The door was a golden red, trimmed with bronze and copper, and gave the impression of impenetrable solidity.

Allard did not break stride, but simply walked right through the solid door. Allard touched it, and felt it to be solid. But it was as if his own molecules were spreading apart and changing in such a way that they could pass through, for his hand disappeared through the solid door. Not wishing to give any sign of hesitation, Talran stepped straight through the door.

Behind it lay a large room. It was bathed in shadows and not a single sign of life was evident. Here and there, a few bright lights shone, but only illuminated themselves. Talran could tell that this was not a fully natural darkness. A new light, though dim, began to shine directly in front of him, though some distance away. Something was blocking it, however, and so only the outline of a large throne was revealed. From it, a voice spoke to him.

**"Greetings, Michael, and to you as well, young Albert."** It was the voice of the sea, rolling and crashing, and impossibly deep. Then the light changed, and faded into darkness once more. But a new light came to replace it, this time emanating from a crystal held in the hands of the mysterious speaker. This light was a soothing white, and reflected off of the silver eyes of the man who held it.

"Who are you?" asked Talran, taken completely aback by the appearance of this man. His long black hair fell below his shoulders, and wore a long beard as well of the same color. His eyes were wholly silver, and seemed to emit their own powerful light. Though seated, the man gave an impression of incredible power waiting, like a coiled spring, to burst into action. He was clothed in black, just as Allard was, but his clothing was trimmed with a strange metal. It seemed like silver, but gleamed a blood-red at the edges when light shone upon it. A golden ring gleamed on the fourth finger of his right hand.

**"I am Azrael, inspired by Destiny to be the Hand of Fate, the sword-arm of justice, and the prince of war. And you have been brought before me, to answer my questions."**

"Why not just read my mind and be done with it," mocked Talran, afraid to show his fear, and determined to hide it with defiance.

**"It is not the place of me or mine to pilfer the secrets of another's mind, to ravage their privacy and to run rampant through the tangled threads of thought that wind through your confused mind." **

"Right. So what is this place, your castle or something?"

**"I will not exact respect from you, though it is well within my power, but if you do not answer my questions, I shall return you to your former state, that of impending death."**

"You answer my questions, and I'll answer yours."

**"Unacceptable. If you answer every query I pose, I will listen to your curiosities and perhaps explain some of them."**

"I see we are in a quandary."

**"Hardly. What do you wish me to do to receive your respect?"**

"Nothing much. Just have a duel with this guy here," Talran pointed to Allard, "to the death."

**"You dare to speak of such a thing? Yes, I see now. There is only one explanation."**

With a thought, aided by a single sweeping motion of his bare hand, Azrael cleanly bisected Talran. His face, still twisted into a sneer, went blank, as his torso fell forward and thudded onto the ground. Azrael waved his hand again, and the corpse disappeared.

"Master," said Allard with a bow, "what now?"

**"Curious. I did not expect the Kargashi, these "Zerg" to have such a dominating effect, so quickly. And none other such happening has been observed either."**

"Perhaps it could have been caused by his inexperience with his Psionic powers; agents of the Xel'Naga have always tended towards domination through that method."

**"But nothing so indirect has been yet observed. We will have to be careful in this matter. As for our next course of action, we must leave this place. To be the Hand of Fate is both curse and blessing. I may not turn aside the destiny that awaits Sarah Kerrigan, nor that of so many of her friends and comrades. Death hovers strongly in the air. The Xel'Naga's legacy shall be victorious o'er all before it may be checked. Let us leave."**

"When shall we return?"

**"When we are needed! Until then, there is other business that demands our attention."**

"As you command, master."

And Lord Azrael, agent of Fate, watched the crystal he held in his hands, peering deep within it to study the future of man. As the mighty starship turned and shifted, changing its course, a smile crept over his handsome face, and he laid his mind to rest.

_Receiving incoming transmission . . ._

**Magnus Scriptor:** Wow, that was pretty fast. So Azrael is out, for some time at least. So we must turn to the people who will have an actual role in the Starcraft story. But I'm not talking about Kerrigan and Raynor and Mengsk, I'm talking about Alan Karadon, Julie Leraton, and Max Riis. Who are they? You'll see in my next story.

I know, I promised more vigniettes than this, sorry. But I've shown everything I've needed to. Perhaps later on I'll add a few stories that don't have any major effect on the great scheme of things. But now, I will mark this as finished and start anew. Look for the next story sometime very soon.

_Transmission terminated__  
_


End file.
